unpleasant.
Throughout the entire month the regular helicopter run of supplies was not able to take place. Fortunately, both Toby and Allison had planned for such eventualities and were not unduly bothered by any shortages of food or operating supplies. Toby’s biggest concern was ice forming on the blades of the windmill. That did occur a couple of times, but he was able, with a judicious use of de-icing spray, to keep the power supply operating.
Fortunately, there were no shipping accidents in the vicinity of Rocky Island, although one bulk carrier further along the coast did send out a distress call after being overcome by high seas in one of the January gales. After a struggle, the Coast Guard was able to get a ship alongside and get a towrope to the distressed vessel to help it safely into port without loss of life.
Jason Brock called Toby a couple of times to discuss the events of the past October. Nobody, he told him, had thought to check on the bow of the Helen of Troy to determine whether it had been the ship in collision with Allison’s father’s fishing boat. The big interest in the vessel had been the cargo that was not found aboard. The customs people had suspected that the ship was carrying drugs to drop off to smugglers, using fishing boats to land the illegal cargo at small out of the way harbor.
“You know anything about activity like that, Toby?” asked the officer.
“Not of my own direct knowledge, but I know that that kind of activity was going on some years ago along the South Shore and it wouldn’t surprise me if it was still taking place from time to time.”
“Neither we nor the Coast Guard has the manpower to patrol constantly all along the shore, but we try to make spot checks and haven’t been able to come up with anything since the time you mentioned. This old freighter would be an ideal vessel for just that kind of traffic if the smugglers decided it’s time to begin again. What it was missing on that trip back in October when it was towed into Halifax was some containers that would have held millions of bucks worth of cocaine, packaged in five kilo bags. The empty space was just right for that kind of cargo, according to customs, but the captain claimed he was carrying sugar and shovelled it overboard.”
“You believe that, Jason, and I’ll sell you the western half of Rocky Island for a dollar.”
“I know that and you know that, but how can we prove it?”
“Who carries sugar in containers, and when is it refined before reaching port in Halifax or St. John?”
“Exactly. Well, we’re keeping an eye out for the Helen of Troy to make a return visit and we’ll be waiting this time. Any help you can give us will be appreciated.”
“Can’t help much unless he comes in close to shore, and smugglers usually keep well off around the two hundred mile limit, but I’ll keep my eyes open. Oh, by the way, where was that ship when the tug picked it up?”
“Thanks for reminding me. She was about fifty miles east of Rocky Island. The Captain claimed to be surprised that he had drifted so far, but then again, with the strength of that storm, who can prove differently?”
Toby and Allison discussed the conversation over their meal hour that evening after Toby had been down to light the beacon. He had fallen on the icy walk as he returned from the lighthouse and banged up his left leg somewhat but nothing more serious then some bruises. Allison was more concerned about him than she was with the Helen of Troy just then. Still she did take in what her husband and the police officer had discussed, and she was still puzzled as to why her father would have been that far from shore.
“Dad wouldn’t have been in that location on a day when a storm was forecast. I don’t understand.”
Neither did Toby.
*
Neither did Nicolai Antonelli.
In an office on the thirty-second floor of an uptown New York business block, Nicolai sat at his massive desk. No papers marred the clean and
Throughout the entire month the regular helicopter run of supplies was not able to take place. Fortunately, both Toby and Allison had planned for such eventualities and were not unduly bothered by any shortages of food or operating supplies. Toby’s biggest concern was ice forming on the blades of the windmill. That did occur a couple of times, but he was able, with a judicious use of de-icing spray, to keep the power supply operating.
Fortunately, there were no shipping accidents in the vicinity of Rocky Island, although one bulk carrier further along the coast did send out a distress call after being overcome by high seas in one of the January gales. After a struggle, the Coast Guard was able to get a ship alongside and get a towrope to the distressed vessel to help it safely into port without loss of life.
Jason Brock called Toby a couple of times to discuss the events of the past October. Nobody, he told him, had thought to check on the bow of the Helen of Troy to determine whether it had been the ship in collision with Allison’s father’s fishing boat. The big interest in the vessel had been the cargo that was not found aboard. The customs people had suspected that the ship was carrying drugs to drop off to smugglers, using fishing boats to land the illegal cargo at small out of the way harbor.
“You know anything about activity like that, Toby?” asked the officer.
“Not of my own direct knowledge, but I know that that kind of activity was going on some years ago along the South Shore and it wouldn’t surprise me if it was still taking place from time to time.”
“Neither we nor the Coast Guard has the manpower to patrol constantly all along the shore, but we try to make spot checks and haven’t been able to come up with anything since the time you mentioned. This old freighter would be an ideal vessel for just that kind of traffic if the smugglers decided it’s time to begin again. What it was missing on that trip back in October when it was towed into Halifax was some containers that would have held millions of bucks worth of cocaine, packaged in five kilo bags. The empty space was just right for that kind of cargo, according to customs, but the captain claimed he was carrying sugar and shovelled it overboard.”
“You believe that, Jason, and I’ll sell you the western half of Rocky Island for a dollar.”
“I know that and you know that, but how can we prove it?”
“Who carries sugar in containers, and when is it refined before reaching port in Halifax or St. John?”
“Exactly. Well, we’re keeping an eye out for the Helen of Troy to make a return visit and we’ll be waiting this time. Any help you can give us will be appreciated.”
“Can’t help much unless he comes in close to shore, and smugglers usually keep well off around the two hundred mile limit, but I’ll keep my eyes open. Oh, by the way, where was that ship when the tug picked it up?”
“Thanks for reminding me. She was about fifty miles east of Rocky Island. The Captain claimed to be surprised that he had drifted so far, but then again, with the strength of that storm, who can prove differently?”
Toby and Allison discussed the conversation over their meal hour that evening after Toby had been down to light the beacon. He had fallen on the icy walk as he returned from the lighthouse and banged up his left leg somewhat but nothing more serious then some bruises. Allison was more concerned about him than she was with the Helen of Troy just then. Still she did take in what her husband and the police officer had discussed, and she was still puzzled as to why her father would have been that far from shore.
“Dad wouldn’t have been in that location on a day when a storm was forecast. I don’t understand.”
Neither did Toby.
*
Neither did Nicolai Antonelli.
In an office on the thirty-second floor of an uptown New York business block, Nicolai sat at his massive desk. No papers marred the clean and
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